


Pop the Clutch

by annabagnell



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Birth, Body Horror, Creature Pregnancy, M/M, Mpreg, Sort Of, reptilian pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-31 14:32:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19427911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabagnell/pseuds/annabagnell
Summary: “‘M carrying a clutch,” Crowley said, shrugging and straightening his posture until Aziraphale could see the small but noticeable curve to his lower belly.“And this means...what, precisely?” the angel finally asked. “You’re...pregnant, and we’re going to have…?”“An awful lot of snakes, most likely.”





	Pop the Clutch

**Author's Note:**

> So there's, like, some vague body horror here, but it's secondary to the kink surrounding the irresponsible number of snakes I put inside Anthony Janthony Crowley

Crowley could tell it had happened within a few days. “We’re gonna be parents soon, I’m afraid,” he mentioned nonchalantly at breakfast, apropos of nothing, and whilst sipping his usual morning coffee. 

Aziraphale sputtered tea all over his shirt and had to dab at his mouth with a napkin before replying. “What on earth are you talking about?” he asked, utterly baffled and more than slightly shocked. 

“‘M carrying a clutch,” Crowley replied, shrugging and straightening his posture until Aziraphale could see the small but noticeable curve to his lower belly. He returned to his usual slouch a moment later, but Aziraphale couldn’t take his eyes off the bare skin. 

“And this means...what, precisely?” the angel finally asked. “You’re...pregnant, and we’re going to have…?” 

“An  _ awful _ lot of snakes, most likely,” Crowley drawled, taking another sip of his coffee. “No idea how many, but it’s definitely more than one.” 

“Will they...always be snakes?” Aziraphale asked carefully, having never thought much about Crowley’s reproductive abilities. 

“Probably.” Crowley paused, looked contemplative, and then nodded. “Yeah, probably. Dunno for sure. Never had kids before.”

Aziraphale couldn’t help but bark a laugh and bury his face in his hands for a moment. “I’m sorry, Crowley,” he said, shaking his head and smiling bemusedly. “What a delightful surprise. Parents, to snakes. Will you be...laying eggs?” 

“No.” Crowley made a face, his nose wrinkling in displeasure. “Live birth. I’m ovi - ovo, er…” He screwed up his face in concentration. “Ovo-vivi-parous,” he finally managed, sounding pleased with himself. “Fully-developed live young.” 

That was a surprise. Aziraphale’s eyebrows raised. “Interesting,” he said, leaning an elbow on the table and resuming sipping his tea. Crowley seemed entirely unworried about the whole thing, so Aziraphale was following suit. “And how long will this whole...ordeal take?” 

Crowley hummed for a moment. “Five and a half months, give or take. Could be longer, as I’m currently, mm, not a snake.” 

“Well,” Aziraphale nodded a few times, taking in all of the information. “Ought I...congratulate you?” 

“Can if you want,” Crowley replied almost apathetically, but he was grinning despite his attempt to appear blasé. He looked a bit proud, if Aziraphale was being honest. 

“Well. I love you, and I look forward to...meeting our snake babies,” the angel said brightly, despite his earlier astonishment. He stood up and walked around the table and bent down to kiss his husband. “It all sounds rather exciting.” 

Crowley accepted the kiss and then downed the rest of his coffee. “I’m sure it will be soon.”

  
  
  
  


When the demon’s stomach began to bow outward with his clutch, Crowley gave up on structured trousers and walked around their flat in loose pyjama bottoms. His drapey worn t-shirts began to cling to his growing middle, and a little sliver of bare skin was almost always visible in the gap between shirt and bottoms. Aziraphale  _ loved _ that gap. 

He crept up behind Crowley in the kitchen one morning and wrapped his arms around Crowley’s expanding waist, rubbing his bump with both hands. “You’re getting round, my darling,” he murmured into Crowley’s ear. “I think I rather like it.” 

“‘S damned weird.” Crowley made a face. “Feel like I’m not walking right.” 

“You’ve never walked right,” Aziraphale replied. “Now you’re just walking like the rest of us, instead of doing that...thing you did, where your hips never stayed in their sockets.” 

Crowley made a noise somewhere between an ‘eh’ and a ‘so?’ and wriggled out of Aziraphale’s grasp. He turned around to face the angel and pulled his shirt up to expose his whole stomach. “Look at it,” he said, poking the curve of it in a few places. “Feels different than I expected. Sort of thought it would be like...you know, the aftermath of a big meal. Tight, you know? ‘S not like that. Just feels heavy mostly.” 

Aziraphale laid his hand on it, palm flat on the warm skin. It felt solid under his hand. “It  _ looks _ the way I expected it to look,” he said, rubbing his hand back and forth a little. “Just like a pregnant belly. I wasn’t sure if it would be shaped differently, or...something.” 

“I didn’t really know what to expect,” Crowley confessed. “Not even sure what the plumbing looks like. I imagine it’ll all sort itself out.” He rolled his shoulders in sort of a lazy shrug. “Figured out how to put itself there, it can figure out how to leave.” 

“Do you think you’ll feel them...move, soon?” Aziraphale wondered aloud. 

“I have no idea,” Crowley replied, shaking his head. “But once I do, I won’t stop feeling them. Eurgh,” he said, sticking out his tongue. “Wonder what that’ll be like. ‘Cos they’re all in their own little sac, you know? No eggshell, so if they move I’ll feel...well, all of it.” 

Aziraphale made a curious noise. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he said contemplatively. He smoothed his hand over the gentle curve of Crowley’s belly before starting work on making breakfast for the demon. He needed more than a single cup of coffee to get him through the morning, these days. 

  
  
  
  


Crowley began to feel constantly, ravenously hungry around the ten-week mark. His belly had swollen further, large enough that he was either shirtless or wearing an overlarge baggy t-shirt anytime he was in the flat. Aziraphale had started hard-boiling a dozen eggs every morning and keeping them in a small bucket in the fridge, available for Crowley to snack on anytime hunger struck him. 

“Angel,” Crowley called from the couch, where he was slouched down with his belly sticking up in the air. 

Aziraphale appeared from a few rooms away. “Yes, darling?” 

“Need more eggs,” Crowley said, holding up the empty bucket. 

“I just made more this morning,” Aziraphale replied, looking baffled as he took the pail and looked inside, as if to check and see if there were any whole hard-boiled eggs that Crowley had failed to notice. (It was empty.) “I think I’ve got another dozen in the refrigerator, but...is this normal, Crowley?” he asked, looking at his husband’s rounded middle. 

“How would I know?” Crowley responded, twisting to look up at Aziraphale. “Never had a clutch before, remember?” 

“Right,” Aziraphale sighed. “More eggs, then.” 

They decided later on that Crowley needed to increase his protein intake, as Aziraphale couldn’t keep up with the dizzying task of hard-boiling 24 eggs a day. 

“So...an entire rotisserie chicken, then?” Aziraphale asked, adding it to his grocery list. Crowley held up two fingers. “Two rotisserie chickens.” 

“I’m growing dozens of  _ your _ young, remember,” Crowley replied, sitting up with effort from his place on the couch. He was twelve weeks pregnant and his stomach had ballooned even further, so large it was starting to rest on his thighs anytime he was sitting. He’d begun to feel movement earlier in the week, but couldn’t really describe it as anything other than a stirring. What he could describe, though, was how  _ bloody hungry _ he was. 

When Aziraphale returned with his dinner, Crowley started eating in earnest. He tore a leg off the first bird and picked the bone clean of meat within a minute. Aziraphale could only watch in vague horror and astonishment as Crowley ate, seemingly without stopping to breathe, until the first chicken was just a pile of bones in the plastic tray. He leaned back on the couch and moaned in relief. “Almost forgot what it felt like to not be hungry,” he sighed, reaching for the second chicken. “Thank you, angel.” 

“It’s the least I could do,” Aziraphale replied, slightly shell-shocked by how quickly Crowley had consumed the bird, and the gusto with which he was approaching the second. “Will that be...enough for dinner, do you think?”

“Ought to be,” Crowley said around a mouthful of chicken. He was rubbing his belly with one hand while the other held a drumstick in front of his mouth like a lollipop. Watching the demon eat with such abandon was almost a sexual experience, Aziraphale thought. “Go on, then,” Crowley continued, grinning. Aziraphale jumped. “Touch it. You know you want to.” He moved his hand away and spread his knees a little, opening himself up for Aziraphale to explore. 

The angel leapt at the chance. He knelt between Crowley’s thighs, both hands on his round, full middle. He couldn’t feel the movements Crowley had mentioned, not yet, but he could feel how warm and solid the curve of his belly was, and appreciate how much Crowley’s body had stretched already to accommodate the growth of his clutch. “You’re so full,” Aziraphale breathed, leaning in to lay a gentle kiss on Crowley’s navel. “So round...so big. All because of me,” he sighed, kissing all over the demon’s swollen belly. 

“All your fault,” Crowley replied, sliding his fingers through Aziraphale’s hair. Faintly, the angel registered that Crowley was still eating the chicken, but he could hardly be bothered to stop and let him finish his meal. Instead, he reached up and pulled the waist of Crowley’s loose sleep bottoms down over his hips and discarded them somewhere on the other side of the room, baring his lower body and leaving the demon fully nude as he relaxed on the sofa. “I like the initiative,” Crowley said, one eyebrow raised. He parted his thighs even more and slid his hips forward. 

“I have to repent for my sins.” Aziraphale’s hand found Crowley’s cock, and he atoned. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


Just as Crowley had feared, once he felt the clutch move, he didn’t stop feeling it. 

Dozens of developing snakes, each in their own sac within his burdened womb, became large enough that he could feel every shift of their long, thin bodies. At first it had just felt like irregular stirrings, but as they grew, he could feel more acutely the movements of their bodies as they curled and stretched. 

“Ah,” Crowley exclaimed, lying on his side in their bed. A vigorous squirm deep within him had resulted in an even bigger shift, as the sacs that contained the moving beings shifted positions. It felt like a slick sort of flipping, like squeezing grapes past one another inside a jelly-filled balloon. 

“What is it?” Aziraphale asked, laying his hand on Crowley’s middle and looking alarmed. 

“Moving,” Crowley gasped, feeling almost nauseous. “Two of them just...switched positions. I think. It felt…” he shuddered, unable to put the sensation into words. “Really, really weird,” he finally said lamely. 

He laid there the rest of the night, exhausted but unable to sleep as his belly never quieted. Even when most of the clutch were still, one would roll over and send an echo of movement rippling through the rest of the occupants in his womb. It nearly drove him mad, the constant squirming, until he finally fell into a fitful, drained sleep, one from which he would not awaken until his stomach was panging with empty hunger late the next morning. 

He heaved himself out of bed, his spine already aching even after eight hours spent ostensibly resting. His steps were slow and staggering as he followed the smell of Aziraphale cooking breakfast toward the kitchen. He lowered himself into a chair and rested his head in his hands, groaning quietly. “Good morning,” Aziraphale said sympathetically, dropping a kiss to Crowley’s head and kneading his shoulders as a dozen eggs sizzled away on a large griddle. “You didn’t sleep much last night, did you.” 

“Hardly a wink,” Crowley replied roughly. His belly was rife with movement already today, what felt like every single growing snake in his womb twisting and stretching within him. His skin felt more stretched than it ever had before thanks to the constant shifting, and his overfull belly rested heavy and full on his thighs. “Eight weeks to go,” he said miserably, burying his head in his folded arms on the tabletop. 

Aziraphale’s fingers combed Crowley’s long tangled hair, mussed from a night of sleepless frustration. “I wonder if there’s anything that can soothe them,” he mused, his hands sliding firmly up and down the line of Crowley’s spine to massage his sore muscles. “A movement, or a sound, maybe. You know, as human babies respond to motion and noise. It can be...calming.” 

“Mm.” Crowley hardly had the energy to respond. 

“Why don’t we try going for a walk?” Aziraphale suggested. 

“A walk.” Crowley lifted his head just enough to peer at the angel over his shoulder with a look of disgust. “In this state, you want me to go on a nice Sunday stroll?”

“They’re  _ restless, _ ” Aziraphale argued. “It might rock them to sleep. Lull them into a nice rest. It might be worth a try, if it gives you some relief.” He squeezed Crowley’s shoulder. 

“And just what am I meant to wear to go on this walk?” Crowley snapped tiredly. 

“I can miracle you a shirt and trousers that...cover you up,” Aziraphale offered. “And I’ll rub your back for as long as you need when we get home.” 

Crowley sighed and leaned back into Aziraphale’s hands. “Might as well,” he conceded. “If it helps me get an hour of sleep I’ll do anything. But not until after I’ve eaten,” he said, eyeing the eggs. “I could eat an entire horse, hooves included.” 

The demon made short work of the eggs and ham Aziraphale had prepared, and the angel packed a half-dozen hard-boiled eggs and a quarter-pound of cubed cheese for their walk. One miracled tracksuit later, Crowley was making his slow, waddling way outside for the first time in weeks. 

“Bright,” he said, donning his circular shades and putting his hood up for further anonymity. Aziraphale took his hand and walked at his side, providing a steady stream of chatter to fill the air as they walked toward a nearby park. 

To his surprise, Crowley noticed that the movement in his belly had quieted significantly by the time they made it to the park. “Settled down,” he said, smoothing a hand over the dark hoodie Aziraphale had put him in. “A lot, actually.” He led them over to a nearby bench and sat down, slouching as much as he could manage around the enormous roundness of his belly. With his belly quiet for the first time in days, and warm under his hoodie, Crowley leaned against Aziraphale and fell asleep. 

The angel kept Crowley propped up on him as he slept, turning away the eyes of passers-by to give Crowley some peace as he rested. The demon was so tired he was snoring, dead to the world. He remained fast asleep for some three hours before he grunted awake and slowly sat up. “‘Ow long was I out?” he rattled, pushing his sunglasses back up his nose and squinting in the midday sunlight. 

“A few hours,” Aziraphale said lightly, holding out his lunch bag full of cheese and eggs. “Snack?” 

“Angel, I adore you,” Crowley said, and took the whole bag. 

  
  
  
  


Despite the constant eating, Crowley began to look a little hollow-cheeked as the weeks dragged by. They had adjusted their estimate from ‘two dozen’ to ‘a whole fucking lot’ somewhere along the way, as Crowley’s swollen belly began to distend further than a normal full-term human pregnancy, with somewhere around a month yet to go by Crowley’s own estimation. 

He just couldn’t keep up with the calorie intake. The demon was ravenously hungry at almost all hours of the day, and no amount of snacking could sate him. “We should have invested in the British egg industry,” Aziraphale said, unloading flats of eggs into their refrigerator. Crowley was lying stretched out on the sofa, cushions propping up his enormous belly. He was eating cubed cheese lackadaisically, his belly gently distorting with the movements of his clutch within him. Their shapes had become visible recently, and were easily felt from the outside. Crowley’s skin felt stretched drum-tight and paper thin, and he couldn’t escape the constant bubbling of movement from within. 

It would have all sickened him, if Aziraphale didn’t adore it so much. The angel couldn’t get enough of touching his swollen belly, soothing the movements of the clutch under his calming hands. He loved feeding Crowley, especially now that the demon was almost bedridden and half-starving trying to keep up with the demands of his brood. 

The angel mixed Crowley a protein shake, one he’d made to taste like the most decadent chocolate milkshake Crowley could imagine. “Anything to make it easier for you, my darling,” Aziraphale crooned, caressing the fecund curve of Crowley’s belly. “Drink up. You need the energy.” 

“I’ve been eating all afternoon,” Crowley complained, but sipped the straw of the chocolate shake anyway. He had to admit that the dessert - well, protein shake - was one of Aziraphale’s best creations yet, and it went down smooth and satisfying. Even so, he hardly had room to finish half, let alone the whole thing. “Just not enough space,” the demon sighed, setting the cup down and rubbing his quivering belly. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said sweetly, his hand resting on the full bottom of Crowley’s overfull middle. “You really ought to finish it all. You need the calories, my love. You’re getting too thin.” 

“Thin,” Crowley barked, gesturing to his bulging middle. “Thin is the  _ last _ thing I am.” 

“You know what I mean. They’re using all your fat reserves. You were thin to start with, but you’re positively gaunt, even for a demon. You need to finish the protein drink.”Aziraphale picked it up and pushed it back into Crowley’s hand. 

“Dunno what to tell you, angel.” He shifted uncomfortably on the couch, shaking his head. “No room for anything else. Try me later.” 

Aziraphale put the straw to Crowley’s lips. “You’re a snake. I know your stomach can expand. You’ve stretched for them, stretch a little more for yourself. You  _ need _ the nourishment.” He rested his hand on Crowley’s hip. “I’ll make it worth your while.” 

“‘S been so long since I’ve seen anything down there, hardly know what it even looks like, let alone if it functions,” Crowley griped. Aziraphale pressed the straw insistently closer. Crowley wrapped his tongue around the straw and drew it into his mouth, and sucked. 

His stomach was full, but Aziraphale was right to a point - it could expand, and he did need the nutrition. He sucked the shake down dutifully bit by bit, ignoring the discomfort in his stomach as he drank. Finally the straw sucked up the last of the drink and Crowley let the straw fall from his mouth. His stomach was aching, just on the side of uncomfortably overfull. “No more, angel,” Crowley said, half-begging, and clutched at his stomach as it smarted. 

“No more, my darling,” Aziraphale promised, dropping a kiss to the aching span of skin over his stuffed stomach. “I did promise I would make it worth your while, though. Would you mind if I...helped you feel better?” he asked, sliding his hand down under Crowley’s distended belly and toward his groin. 

Crowley cursed. “You had bloody well better.” 

  
  
  
  
  


Crowley laid sleepless in bed, propped up on piles of cushions. His writhing, distended belly protruded in a dramatic curve from his chest, the difference made even more dramatic by the fact that his chest hadn’t swollen one iota - he was a reptile, he had reminded Aziraphale when the angel remarked on it. The bloated curve of his middle departed from his ribcage in a sharp, harsh jut of skin, and the whole swell of it looked so absolutely packed full that any visible ripple of movement from the brood Crowley carried looked like it might pop him open. 

The demon was breathless with the weight of it, and his body was protesting every additional second he spent incubating his clutch. He was almost ready to ask Aziraphale for holy water just to escape the misery of another sleepless night spent this grossly pregnant. 

He shifted uncomfortably when a ripple of movement from one of his young sent an echo through the rest of his belly, setting off a painful writhing inside him that made him yelp through clenched teeth. He was panting, trying to stifle his noises and let Aziraphale sleep when he felt a sick, sharp movement, followed by a gut-wrenching cramp that made him cry out. 

Aziraphale shot bolt upright and flicked the lamp on, watching helplessly as Crowley shouted in pain. “Crowley!” he said, on his knees by the demon’s side. “What is it? What’s happening?” 

“Hurts,” Crowley gasped, yellow eyes narrowed to slits as he writhed in place, pinned by the weight of his belly. “Something - sharp. Hurts.” He clutched Aziraphale’s hand deathly hard, panting and whimpering as the cramp rolled through him. 

The pain subsided just enough that Crowley could catch his breath. The sheets were soaked, he realized, and let out a noise of relief - this was it, it was finally over. 

“Think they’re coming,” Crowley hissed, and another of the sharp, biting pains made him shout, and another right afterward. His belly seized in another cramp and he curled up, trying to escape the squeezing pain. 

Aziraphale pulled the sheet back and saw the yellowed sheets, and Crowley’s reddened, swollen opening. He was terrified to see his partner in pain, but if this was it - there was nothing for him to do but be there for the demon while he endured it. 

Crowley arched his back and pulled his legs up to cradle the overripe curve of his belly. He strained, hoping for any sort of relief, and felt something move within him - a writhing body, he could feel, moving down. “Angel,” he rasped, grabbing Aziraphale’s hand and squeezing tight as he pushed. 

It moved down quickly, stretching him open as he strained to shove it out. He heard Aziraphale’s gasp when the sac emerged, and kept pushing until it emerged from him. Some part of him wanted to see the product of his labor, but before he was able to form the thought into words, another cramp gripped him. 

Over and over he strained, bringing forth the curled-up, twisted bodies of his clutch, each one having pierced its egg within him before emerging in its sac. The older snakes began to work their way out of their sacs, and Aziraphale had to leave Crowley’s side to place each one in the box they’d made under one of Crowley’s heat lamps. There were forty, all told, now slithering over top of one another - but blessedly, outside of Crowley’s body now. 

Hours later, empty and exhausted, Crowley lay on his side and let Aziraphale massage the puffy, sore skin of his belly. Already the skin was beginning to tighten - the only benefit of being a snake to this whole ordeal was that the recovery time would be minimal - but he was still aching and heavy, and deeply tired. 

“Angel,” Crowley croaked, after Aziraphale had lovingly cleaned and re-dressed him, and miracled their bed cleaner and impossibly soft. “C’mere.” 

“Yes, my love?” Aziraphale asked, taking Crowley’s hand and kissing the knuckles. Crowley smiled. 

“I am never letting you top again.”


End file.
